The Game
by Sulphuric Wolf
Summary: Everyone knows that pokemon can only drink 10 Power-Up items. But what happens when an addicted Garchomp tries to drink more than that? Furthermore, what is the effect of showing pokemon no love or affection whild training them? Swearing and "drug" use.


The Game (One-shot)

I

Dusk was falling upon the small, rural town of Solaceon, the sky turning an angry pinkish red. The tall form of the Lost Tower had become a haunting black rectangle on the horizon. The small cluster of houses that made up the town became tall, daunting shapes, their windows beginning to glow one by one as the residents sat watching TV or tending to their Pokemon, away from the harsh cold of the rapidly cooling town. Most of the wild Pokemon were ready for the night, too. Rattata snuggled down in rubbish bins amongst a pile of rotting, malodorous rubbish, Meowth began to strut about the town yowling and fighting, and pidgeys clustered together in trees, cooing softly.

On the left of the town was the Pokemon Day Care. It was a relatively old building, an old barn from farming days that had been converted into a house. The paint was peeling, the wood rotting, but for one man and his wife, it was home.

The man stood in a small patch of grass near the fence that separated the Pokemon from the town. The Pokemon were clustered together in pairs, fast asleep. The man's hands were clasped behind is back, rubbing together to try and keep warm. His long, silver beard tousled by the wind, his glasses reflecting the light from the Pokemon Day Care sign. His milky grey, serious eyes were fixed on the path out of town, watching and waiting.

Soon enough, a soft clicking noise could be heard from the darkness. A tall boy with tousled blonde hair and a bar of freckles across his nose rode his bike from the south; his young face squinted in concentration. He was not holding onto the handlebars, clasping a small electronic device in the palms of his hands. His long, skinny legs peddled the shiny blue bike, the chain clicking with every rotation of the gear. The man's eyes were fixed on him.

Suddenly, the boy moved his device into one hand and jammed on the bike's brakes with a slight screeching sound. He pushed the small appliance into his pocket, and swung a yellow bag off his back, hurriedly unzipping on of the pockets and reaching in. He pulled out a dark blue egg which was quivering wildly.

The old man watched as the boy rested the egg on the path, Pokétch at the ready. The egg cracked and burst open, a small creature tumbling out.

It was an odd looking Pokemon, with blue skin and a strangely shaped body. While it was mostly dark blue, its chin and belly was an orangey red, not unlike the colour of the dusk sky. The creature's ears were oval shaped, the back of its head narrowed to a strip, making its head look slightly like the front of a jet plane. Its eyes were large compared to its body, and it had chubby, short arms and legs. The pokemon's mouth hung open, displaying rows of razor sharp teeth.

On a whole, it looked like a hammerhead shark crossed with a toad.

"Giiiible! Gib!"

While the Gible barked at its trainer for attention, the boy pushed his hair out of his eyes and frowned at the gadget's monitor. Giving an exasperated sigh, he pulled a red and white globe from his pocket. The ball swelled from the size of a grape to that of an orange. The boy shook his head, pressed a button and instantly the little shark was immaterialized and pulled into the orb, which the teen then tucked into the pocket of his shabby tartan jacket.

Clicking a few buttons on his Pokétch, the boy looked up the old man, who greeted him with a stiff nod. The boy wheeled his bike over to the man, who he dwarfed in height.

"You got my egg, sir?" The boy's voice was cracking with fatigue.

The man reached into his pocket to pull out an oval, smooth shape identical to the one that had hatched in the centre of the village. He handed it to the boy, who grabbed it carefully, muttering his thanks.

"Your Garchomp just laid it. I think it'll be the last one for tonight." The man gestured to a huge creature that looked like an adult version of the one that had just hatched. She was snoring deeply, resting her head on the shoulder of her mate, a larger Garchomp.

The boy nodded slightly. "Okay. I'll hatch this one and bunk down for the night, just like Ursula."

"A good idea," the old man chuckled. "I'd better go in and head straight to bed too. Looks like a big day of Pokemon training tomorrow."

The boy nodded again without smiling. "Okay sir. See you tomorrow." He hopped back on his bike, and began to wheel it away.

The old man started back to his cabin for a cup of warm tea, when for some reason, he felt compelled to turn around and call the youngster back.

"Jason?"

The boy braked his bike and turned around at the mention of his name. His intense green eyes glittered frostily.

"You take good care of it."

"I will," replied Jason coldly.

And with that, he peddled his bike out of town and into the night, the freezing darkness swallowing him up.

II

Jason, my trainer, is my best friend.

Despite the fact that he's a little socially awkward and not much of a talker, he's a great guy.

And, he was the one who taught me to battle.

Jason has always said that there are three types of Pokemon trainers: ones who do it for fun, ones who do it for glory, and ones who have no idea what they're doing.

He's a funny guy, Jason.

He calls me his lucky dude. He had spent all day riding his bike through Solaceon hatching Gible, and I was the one he finally found with a Jolly nature. He says I have perfect eye-vees for battling, and has helped me improve my stats with Eevees.

I have no idea what they are, but Jason says they help me be a better battler.

And then there were the Proteins. Oh, those glorious proteins.

The first time I ever had one was on the road. We found it in a bed of brightly coloured flowers, after Jason used his dowsing machine in the area. He reached into the flowers, and pulled out a small container with a red lid and a yellow arrow printed on a white label wrapped around it.

"Know what this is, Thrasher?"

I shook my head. I was just a young, spritely Gabite and didn't know much about the Metagame. He'd let me out because it was what he called a nice day, and what I called an awfully chilly one. I shivered heavily.

"It's called a protein. It raises your attack by building up your muscles, so your physical moves are more powerful."

He unscrewed the lid and held the little container out to me, and I bent in to sniff it. It had a metallic scent, and made my mouth water. I used my finger-like claws to grab it.

"You want it?"

I nodded, and poured the amber liquid down my throat.

To say it was good was to say the least. As the pure muscle-building liquid gurgled down into my stomach, my whole world span out of control. My recent losses, the coldness in the air, my trainer, nothing mattered. Only me, and the protein.

I looked my trainer straight in the eye. I must have appeared dazed, because he was grinning at me widely, something bizarre and out of the ordinary for Jason.

"You like it?"

I nodded absently, only thinking about the protein and how it was making my muscles ache. But it was a good ache, the kind of ache that I got just after training.

It was the kind of ache that told me I was improving.

III

Jason, to my dismay, limited my protein intake.

"Your body can only handle ten proteins. Drink more than that, and you'll never be able to drink them again,"

This disappointed me, but I avoided them after that. I wanted to save them for when I really needed them.

Instead, Jason taught me about EVs.

"Thrasher, do you what EVs are?"

I pointed my claw at Jason's Siliceon, Sandy. She rolled her hazel eyes and said to me, "They're what proteins give you, dumbass," She always teased me, just as a joke.

Because Jason could not understand Pokemon speech, he explained it to me in more specific terms.

"Remember all those Machoke I made you fight? Well, each one gave you two EVs. They helped raise your attack stat, which Garchomp have a high amount of anyway. Even so, every EV makes you a better battler. Those proteins give you ten EVs per bottle."

My skin tensed at the mention of my favourite treat. What I wouldn't give for one now.

Jason stared at me, not blinking. I never could look him in the eyes; they were far too cruel, like toxic sludge.

"Today we will be fighting Bidoof. They are relatively weak Pokemon, but are a good boost for your Hit Points stat. Look, here's one now."

A plump, brown creature with large front teeth and small rounded ears waddled through the grass. Its beady black eyes reflected the glimmer of the sun overhead.

"Ok, Sandy. Show Thrasher how it's done."

The slightly older eon got to her feet and shook her long, dirt coloured mane. I watched as she concentrated, closing the hazel eyes of her species. The ground began to rumble, before it burst open below the Bidoof, spewing lava and rock. The tiny body was thrown into the air squealing, before hitting the grass with a soft thud. The ground made a sick squelching noise, and was repaired before my very eyes. It was like watching a horror movie transformation. Within a few moments, grass had sprouted and you would never have known it had split open.

"Nice Earth Power, Sandy." The eon smiled weakly before curling up into a ball. "It's your turn, Thrasher."

I nodded at my trainer, waiting for a Bidoof to appear. When I sighted a small, red nose sniffling through the grass, I crouched down, and let power build up in my muscles. For a moment, everything went in slow motion as I felt energy build up inside me, but returned back to normal as I pushed off the ground with my feet.

The Bidoof squealed as my Dragon Rush hit it, but that was the last I heard of it. I assumed it had been imbedded into a tree.

I turned to Jason and grinned at him. He did not smile back, only inclined his head slightly.

"Well done. Have a Protein."

I was at his side in an instant, my mouth agape. As the liquid ran down my maw and send shivers of pleasure down my spine, I realised how disgusting it was that this was all I lived for. I dreaded what would happen when I couldn't take anymore, and I had reason to.

IV

The Lorto battling festival is the largest of its kind in the entire region. Trainers from all over the world journey to Muscuid City, either to take part in the two week long battling competition, or as spectators.

The day this competition was bright and clear, just as the organisers had hoped. Bird Pokemon flew overhead, chirruping their joy at what a beautiful day it was. Even though the first match had just begun, spectators were in full swing of the action, cheering loudly. Some them held up signs wishing a certain trainer and their Pokemon luck, others released streamers. Every audience member was watching the action that endured in the colosseum.

"Lucario, use Aura sphere."

A blue, anthromorphic jackal-like creature scowled at his opponent with eyes the colour of shed blood. Holding his paws a good foot away from one another, a burning blue ball of blinding energy grew between his hands.

"Okay, Empoleon, use Surf while his guard's down!"

The blue penguin that stood opposite the Lucario was a good five and a half feet tall, and bulky. It raised the flippers that ended in curled yellow claws, meeting its opponent's glare with a steely grey gaze of concentration. A rumbling sound could be heard, and soon a huge, towering wave filled the colosseum. It lifted the Empoleon, who was still holding up its claws, and rapidly swelled towards the Lucario.

The jackal gave a bark of surprise, and released its Aura Sphere in the hope that it would stop the towering wall of water. Alas, the water simply absorbed it and continued descending on the Lucario. A small smile could be seen on the penguin's beaked face as it stared down at its foe.

As a Pokemon medic, I should not have particularly interested in the battle, but I was anyway. I stood in the sidelines, cradling my red and white suitcase in my hands. I would be the first person either trainer would talk to, and one by one they would hand me their pokeballs, which I would place in my suitcase to be healed.

Not much of a job, but hey, I got front row tickets to the biggest Event in the region.

While this was going on, a sixteen year old boy by the name of Jason was reading his Pokemon for battle in a bright, clean locker room. Many trainers gave their Pokemon a pep talk before battle, and Jason was no exception to this. His words, however, did not herald encouragement, but were merely a cold, monotonous string advising the Pokemon how they would win.

One particular Pokemon, a huge, muscular Garchomp, listened intently. His hulking blue body shivered with anticipation, and a toothy grin spread across his scaly face as he stared admiringly at his trainer.

"Right." He fixed his intense eyes on a large brown Pokemon with a short snout, who met his gaze calmly. "Mammal will be my first Pokemon. I heard the trainer we're facing is a fan of dragon types."

Mammal inclined its whole body, since it lacked a head. It did not notice the Garchomp glaring at it jealously.

Another trainer, a female, entered the room at this point. She had ginger hair pulled back in a ponytail and friendly blue eyes. An Aipom sat on her shoulder, grinning stupidly. As soon as she saw Jason, her face matched her Pokemon's.

"How's it going, Jason?"

Jason nodded, forcing a smile. "Hey, Sam."

The girl gave an arching wave, knowing not to embrace her cold and unaffectionate cousin. Instead, she walked over to Thrasher, whom she had met at family gatherings, and wrapped her arms around him. She could get affection from the friendly Pokemon, no worries.

Thrasher, as expected, hugged her back. "It's nice to see you again," He said to his old friend.

Sam could tell by the tone of Thrasher's voice that he was saying something kind. What a kind Pokemon, she thought as she swung her pack off and plonked it on the rotting wooden bench that framed the wall. "Can you have your Pokemon that aren't battling watch this bag for me? I don't want to pay 500 pokedollars for a lousy locker"

Jason turned to Garchomp. "I think you'll be at risk from the dragon Pokemon, so just wait here with Sam's bag until I need you, okay?"

The Garchomp's heart sank – he loved battling – but he nodded, eager to please his trainer. Jason muttered a thank-you, before turning to talk to the girl.

The pair talked awkwardly for a while, before being interrupted by a loud voice over the PA. "Jason of Veilstone, your battle begins in five minutes. Please make your way to the colosseum."

"Good luck." The girl said with a smile, which Jason returned. Turning to the Garchomp, he said: "Take care of Sam's bag. I'll call you if I need to."

The dragon did not respond. He shivered, his lips twitching. He was craving Protein, something he had become addicted to during his training. He could drink no more, he knew, but he still craved it.

Jason left for his battle, and Sam turned to the Garchomp, smiling at him warmly. "I'm gonna get a drink. Watch nobody steals my bag."

The Garchomp did not take his eyes off the invisible object he was staring at, and began to rock back a forwards like a madman. "No worries. I'll watch your bag."

Sam frowned at the Garchomp, concerned. She hadn't understood anything he said, although you could usually get the gist of what Pokemon said by the tone of their voices, and she couldn't help wondering what was wrong with the creature.

"Thrasher, are you okay? You seem… ill…"

"I'm fine," Thrasher said quickly, and his tone of voice assured Sam enough to leave him.

God, he needed Protein. His skin crawled with the urge to gulp down as much as he could get his claws on.

A thought struck him. What if Sam had a protein in her bag? Thrasher knew that he shouldn't steal, but he couldn't help rifling through her bag.

And, as he had hoped, the bag contained five Proteins, which had been retrieved by Sam on her journeys. The bag also contained other Power-Up items, but Thrasher was only interested in the Proteins.

Piercing the lids with his claws, he balanced the containers in his winglike hands. Completely impervious to the risk, he drowned them all in a single swing.

As the world spun before him, and his muscles ached, Thrasher recalled a particular memory where he had lost a battle as a Gible. Being only young, he had cried bitterly as the scratches he obtained from the Meowth bit him. Jason had cradled him in his arms, and spoken soft, kind words to him.

That was the only time the Pokemon had ever got any affection from his trainer.

After that vision, the problems began.

V

As soon as I heard the roar from the locker room, I knew something was up. I knew right away that the noise came from a Garchomp by its pitch.

I was right, of course. I found the huge, blue red and yellow beast on the floor, convulsing madly. A thick, brownish sludge poured from its open jaws, carrying the empty protein bottles that littered the floor across the room.

I'd only ever read about this. Power-up overdose.

Gingerly stepping around the spew, I gave the monster a quick jab of an anticonvulsant from the syringe I kept in my backpack. This stopped the seizure, but it kept on vomiting.

I rubbed the blue arm, carefully avoiding the spikes that lined it. "I'm here to help you, buddy." I used my left hand to grab another syringe, and jabbed this into the vein just under his wing.

A young boy that I assumed was the pokemon's trainer soon appeared. If he was worried, it did not show on his face. "What happened? Why are you touching my Pokemon, and who are you?"

I gave him what I hoped was a stern stare. "My name is Jon Marsh, I'm a Pokemedic."

The boy's thin, pale lip twitched in the corner; something I recognized, obviously being a former teenager myself, as a threat. "What in Arceus's name are you doing to my Garchomp?" He repeated. The boy's steely eyes flicked to where I was slowly pressing my thumb down on a new syringe, this one filled with a chemical to stop said creatures vital organs shutting down as a result of the former chemical. Pokedrugs worked differently to human ones.

"J-Jason, is it?" I murmured, being confirmed by a stiff, arrogant nod. "Hate to tell you buddy, but your Garchomp OD'd on Proteins."

At first, Jason bit his lip. Then, tears came streaming down his face. "Fuck!" He kicked the wall, green eyes becoming wild. After that, he simply sat on the bench and sobbed bitterly.

I'm not a shrink; I'm a medic, so I just left him there.

There was an awkward silence between us. The Garchomp had stopped vomiting and had covered his head with his wings.

Finally, Jason rubbed his hands through his spiky blonde hair and spoke to me. "Where did he find them?"

I looked at the Garchomp. He peered at me through his wings with glowing yellow eyes. I couldn't help noticing that for a Pokemon who was supposed to be a viscous and cruel battler, they were a lot kinder than his master's, and also seemed to be dull with what looked like dumb animal sadness, like a dog.

He put his wings to his side, and gave a deep sigh, which had a slight growl to it. Then, he raised the hooked claw at the end of his arm, and pointed at a knapsack that was sitting on the bench, flicked with vomit.

Jason gasped. "That's Sam's bag! You know not to steal!"

The Garchomp shook his head sadly, biting his lip and staring at the ground. "I-I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself."

As if on cue, a young girl brandishing an Aipom on her shoulder walked in with a concerned look on her face. "Thrasher?" What happened?"

Thrasher stood up, his jaw hanging open. The girl ran over to him, looking up to the huge creature.

"Sam…. I did a really bad thing. I'm so sorry." He said.

The girl frowned, and then looked at me. "What's he saying?"

"He drank your proteins. I think that was an apology."

Sam looked at Thrasher with no anger in her clear, blue eyes, only sympathy. "Oh, Thrashy, don't feel bad. You couldn't help it." She turned to her cousin, a sour look on her face. "It's his fault."

Jason jumped to his feet, infuriated. The light hit the tracks made by his tears, I knew that Sam noticed he'd been crying because a brief look of surprise passed on her face. "My fault?" He yelled. "How could you accuse me of something like this?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Because you're entirely to blame!" She snapped, pointing her finger at him like the barrel of a gun. "You never showed that Pokemon any love or affection. All you did was treat him like a battling machine!"

Jason snorted. "He's a freakin' Garchomp for Mew's sake. I didn't think that a shark would need your so called love and affection." He made a wide sweeping gesture with his arms. "Besides, I'm not an affectionate guy. So what if I don't to bond with my Pokemon? That's like saying social awkward people can't be trainers."

Sam frowned at him. "When you signed a contract to get a trainer card, you agreed that you would be a friend as well as a trainer."

"That's right," I added. "And if you act so careless towards the delicate bond between Pokemon and humans, the Judge won't take kindly to you."

The boy glared at me. "What Judge?"

I put my hands on my hips, meeting his glare, unharmed by its intensity. This infuriated him. God, teenagers could be so naïve.

"Well, you'll be going to court for breaching your License Contract. With all this evidence," I indicated the sludge covered ground, "I'm pretty sure they'll put you away for all of this."

Without taking his eyes off mine, Jason recalled his Pokemon. "See you in court, arsehole."

VI

This whole court thing is the biggest load of horse shit.

If you've never been to court, maybe I should explain it to you. Basically, a bunch of old men wearing funny wigs decide your future.

The Judge himself, to put nicely, resembled a large Granbull, sitting up on his seat, mallet grasped in his pudgy hand. He glared at me from under glasses that seemed far too small for his face.

In fact, everyone was glaring at me. The Jury, the guy who was suing me (Some guy from the government), and even the public in the gallery. I seemed like public enemy number one.

The only one in the room who wasn't glaring at me was Thrasher.

He was still looking at me, mind you. He sat next to the guy suing me, the Plaintiff or whatever he was called. I think his name was something along the lines of Stewart. Occasionally, he would pat my Garchomp on the thigh, and murmur something in his ear. This made me curl my lip in disgust, but Thrasher took no notice of it. He just continued staring at me.

_You let me down, _Those eyes said. _You exploited me._

I averted my gaze to the front, trying to avoid his. But for the whole court session, I could feel him staring.

VII

They won. Of course they did.

Who would listen to me? I was just the sick, heartless boy who abused my pokémon.

They took all of them away. Sandy, Mammal, Tyranny, Devil, Oak and of course, Thrasher. They are all going to stupid noobs, my years of training was a waste.

I am never allowed to train pokémon again.

I really don't know what I'd done that was so wrong. I had taken care of my pokémon, I had fed them and kept them safe, so what if I didn't truly love them?

I met Jon Marsh, the medic, outside of court. He was smoking a cigarette. Wow, brilliant behaviour for someone who was supposed to be encouraging others to live healthy lives. He looked up when I approached.

"Can I ask you something? You're an expert on Pokémon anatomy, right?"

Jon frowned, and nodded. "Yes?"

I bent in low, really close. I could smell his aftershave and the cigarette. "Why do they think pokémon need to be loved? They live to battle, can't they see that?"

Jon looked at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "The only reason Thrasher did what he did for you was because he loved you. His Protein addiction was probably his way of coping with his loveless, pathetic life."

I pulled back my lip at him. "What the fuck would you know? Do you have pokémon?"

He stared at me with that look again. "Yes, I do. I have a Toxicroak. And, I studied Pokémon Psychology in college."

I had no response to that. "Oh."

He pulled a Dusk Ball out of his pocket and rolled it around his palms. I assumed it contained his Toxicroak. "What are you going to do now?"

I sighed and pushed a strand of hair out of my face. "I have no idea." This was the truth. Training was the only thing that I was good at.

VIII

I have not seen Jason in two years.

Stewart is a nice guy. He said that what Jason was doing was called negligence, because


End file.
